


Familiarity breeds...

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Horn Balm, M/M, Oral Sex, Painplay, Piercings, Post-Canon, Pre-Trespasser, Rimming, Sensation Play, kind of domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Wham! Splat! Porn! prompt: Horn balm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiarity breeds...

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd as yet and almost entirely unproofed as well. I'll probably get to that in the next couple days, but here's your warning, in case that kind of thing bothers you.

After the breach is closed and Corypheus defeated, there no longer seems to be any real reason for Dorian and Bull to have separate rooms. They spend the night in each other's rooms most nights, anyway, and Dorian's only ever in his rooms to sleep. It just doesn't make sense to take up that much space, so Krem graduates into the Iron Bull's larger quarters, and the servants at Skyhold move Dorian's comparatively tiny bed into the alcove and Bull's much larger bed into the main room. 

It makes sense, but it's still odd for Dorian to retire to his rooms and find them occupied and a strange scent in the air. 

At least Bull agrees with Dorian about the appropriate approximate temperature for a bedroom, and he doesn't have to curl up with a down comforter while he waits for the fire to heat things up. He can settle into his chair--the smaller of the two, of course--and ask, "What's that smell?" It smells vaguely minty, familiar but not in a way he can place.

"Horn balm?" Bull asks, holding out the little jar of opaque stuff. "I only use it during winter, down here. It's the only time the dryness gets bad enough to make my horns peel." 

Dorian has vague memories of smelling it on Bull last winter, but that was before they were together, back at Haven and the early days of Skyhold. "I wouldn't have thought you so high-maintenance," he says, smiling to show he's not serious, not really. He knows quite well that the label applies much more to him than Bull. 

Bull lets Dorian get away with it, of course. If he was going to be put off by Dorian's general prickliness, that time was months ago, not now. "I think it feels nice, at least."

"Oh?" Dorian asks, doubting it a bit, given the burning still going on in his sinuses. 

"Yeah. I could show you."

Dorian wouldn't have thought, months ago, that there were any real benefits to a steady relationship. All those feelings--he still finds them difficult, but now he's able to appreciate things like the ability to recognize Bull's tone in addition to having a bed-heater at night. That is the tone Bull uses when he wants something more than uncomplicated sex, when he wants--something that will end up making Dorian lose himself in the best of ways. "You could," Dorian says, agreeing to more than just learning about Bull's horn balm. "But I can't see any reason I should enjoy horn balm, without horns of my own in need of soothing." 

"Nah," Bull says, and his eyes are lidded now, as he leans forward in his chair, turning the jar over in his hands; the balm inside is quite thick and not in danger of coming out. "It's great on skin, too. Pain relief, if you need it. Plus it tingles a bit in more sensitive areas."

Sensitive areas sounds promising. Dorian smiles at Bull, raising his brows, and Bull nods. Of course, 

"Yeah, yeah, you know what you're in for," Bull says, and he's grinning, broad and anticipating. "Get stripped down and lay on the bed if you wanna try it." 

"Face-up or face-down?" Dorian asks, already working on his buckles, leaving his clothes in messy piles where they land, in the general direction of the bed. 

"Face-up," Bull instructs, following behind Dorian, and climbing on top of him once Dorian's laying down. It's a position that Dorian's used to, even if he's not sure he'll ever truly get over the way his heart skips a few beats when Bull straddles him and towers over Dorian like that. 

The firelight paints him a more human color, and Dorian's not sure if he likes it. He cups Bull's outer thigh, digging his fingers in gently, and Bull groans happily as he leans down and rubs a tiny bit of balm in the center of Dorian's chest.

"Oh," Dorian breathes, exhaling and then inhaling deeply. It's a peculiar sensation, enough that he can't do anything but respond honestly. "That is--yes, tingly, you're absolutely correct." 

"Yep," Bull says, cheerful before his brows lower and his mouth widens into a leer. "It can be painful, though." 

Doing more than raising his brows is unnecessary, so Dorian doesn't. 

"In the eyes is the worst, but other places, too. It's..." he trails off, his hands tracing down Dorian's sides as he lowers himself down, as he lets the length of his flaccid cock rest against Dorian's hardening cock. "You'd call it exquisite, I think."

Bull's not often wrong. Dorian lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, arching into the touch, until it's just him laying there, Bull's hands on his stomach, oh--he's waiting. Dorian opens his eyes again. "Exquisite?"

"Say I put it here," Bull murmurs, touching Dorian's left nipple. It's not the same hand he used to apply the balm a moment ago, and Dorian does his best not to arch into the touch, nodding his permission for Bull to do so. Bull smiles. "It's going to hurt." 

It's not teasing anymore, but a warning, and Dorian finds himself scoffing out a little laugh. "Do you think I can't take it?" 

Bull shrugs. Whether or not Dorian can take it isn't the important part, clearly. "If you want to be hurt, ask for it." 

Dorian sighs his frustration and arches against Bull, enough to make Bull raise his eyebrows and let his full weight settle on Dorian for a moment. The message is clear: _You're not going anywhere._ Dorian sighs again, lips pressing into a thin line before he licks them and says, words quick and light, "Please put some of the balm on my nipples?" 

"Both of them?" Bull asks, balm-free hand going to Dorian's other nipple, pressing, teasing it into firmness and then brushing back and forth over it. His cock is hardening, going from flaccid to stiff in a way that is incredibly distracting. 

"Naturally," Dorian says, voice shakier than he would like, and biting his lip as he watches Bull's big fingers. 

Into the jar of salve Bull's other hand goes, though the amount on his fingers is very little when he pulls them out, and it looks and feels like almost nothing when Bull, slowly and gently, rubs the salve into one of Dorian's nipples. The deliberateness is methodical, so very frustrating and so very _Bull_. 

"You're loving this," Bull says, low and easy, as he rubs balm into Dorian's other nipple just about the time that the first is beginning to feel tingly. It's an odd feeling--just as odd as coming to his rooms and finding them occupied, though in a different, entirely physical way--and Dorian ends up biting his lip, staring down at the slightly damp, dusky skin while Bull leans down and blows over both nipples. 

It's jarring and all at once Dorian's eyes are rolling back and he's arching--Bull's grunting, pleased, making sure Dorian can't get very far. The burn is nothing like scalding water, no, it's more like something beneath the skin and yet on top of it also--something sinking in and then Bull blowing on them makes the sensation clear and present in Dorian's mind and he's shivering, squirming. 

Maybe it's like--rope burn? No, but it's fire from coolness, and Dorian can't help whimpering for some reason in a way that is entirely unlike the reactions he normally allows himself. 

Realizing that Bull is grinding his hips against Dorian's, slow and even, while he leans over Dorian, eyes dark with concentration, is secondary to the burning, and yet also integral. It's like there's a direct connection: Dorian's cock, Dorian's nipples, the weight of Bull on top of him, the delicious burning and prickly coolness, perhaps he will die of it, die of the sensation overload. 

But then Bull kisses him, and Dorian can drown there instead, drown in Bull's firm lips and the way that him thrusting his tongue into Dorian's mouth coincides with pressing Dorian down against the bed, harder, more. More. Dorian whispers it, "More," and "please" even as Bull begins to pay attention to Dorian's nipples, nuzzling his face against Dorian's while he pinches both at once, while it feels like he makes every part of Dorian's brain and body unite in--feeling this, oh Maker, sweet _Maker_ , does it ever burn. 

A good burn, though. The best of burns, augmented by Bull on top of him, Bull teasing and kissing and pinching and grinding and--Dorian's nowhere near coming, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't even occur to him that he should be until Bull's leaning back, chuckling in a self-satisfied way. 

Belatedly, he realizes that his nipples barely burn at all anymore. Just a low tingle. He grunts, shivering as he realizes that he's covered in sweat, that rather more time has passed than one might consider strictly ideal, when one also considers that he's been squirming and moaning for the last--however long. Dorian doesn't like this return to semi-coherency. 

"Tell me how it was," Bull says, voice low, gravelly as he reaches down, as he presses their cocks together. 

He clearly does mean for Dorian to answer, too, because he only does that for a moment, and backs off after, and the only word Dorian can manage to dredge out is, "Good." 

Bull's chuckle is pleased, so pleased. "You've gotta do better than that if you want more." 

A glare is all the more response Dorian can muster. The burn feels like an ache, only he doesn't ache at all, and the lack of it is--conspicuous, unpleasant. He doesn't want to think of words, not... not right now.

"Well?" Bull asks, shifting his hips, making Dorian moan softly. "Are we done for now, then?"

"No," Dorian says, and it feels like the word is punched out of his chest, painful at the idea that Bull would stop--even if he knows Bull won't, knows Bull will spend literal hours drawing it out until he gets what he wants, if that's what it takes. "It's only. Difficult, I find it." He licks his lips, rolls his shoulders, tries not to be hyper aware of the touch of Bull's skin to his and the scent of the horn balm in the air. "To think." 

"You're tellin' me that a little horn balm's wrecked your wits that bad?" Bull asks, and doesn't sound displeased about it. "Damn. Wish I'd known sooner."

Dorian punches Bull's thigh, where his hand has rested--yes, he does have hands, doesn't he? So difficult to think of, when his chest was on fire. "It feels like--mmm." Dorian hums, pleased, as Bull traces his hands down Dorian's sides, then back up again, slow and easy, not a distraction but a reward. "Feels like icy burning. Like I've cast a fire spell inside of a ball of ice, I suppose? Only the ice doesn't melt." 

Bull doesn't say good, but he does lean down and cover Dorian's nipples with his mouth, does suck and lick and bite, first one and then then the other. More reward.

"But deeper," Dorian says, not bothering to try and keep the pleasure out of his voice. "I felt it--down inside my chest, burning." 

"Yes," Bull rumbles, mouth still against Dorian's skin, and Dorian can't help tracing Bull's horns with his hand, can't help cupping the back of Bull's head. "That is the way of it. Mmm. Feels good, Kadan." For long moments, it's just that, Bull sucking and biting and teasing, and Dorian letting him, until Bull pulls away enough to catch Dorian's eye. "What did it make you do?" 

"Move." Dorian's skin feels tingly again, without Bull's mouth on it, and Bull blows, as before, but it's a different sensation, and he realizes, he's not--well, squirming is the best word that comes to mind, but Dorian would mount a full-scale defense at the idea that he was capable of squirming from nothing but balm on his nipples. "I felt like I couldn't hold still." 

The pleased noise Bull makes is low and beautiful, and Dorian loves it more than is healthy. 

"And you want more?" Bull asks. "You want me to make you move more? Hurt more?"

"I can't stop you." Dorian finds the response slips out before he can consciously process the words, and knows it's the truth, knows that they both know that truth is part of Bull's appeal. It's his go-to way to give Bull tacit permission for--most things. 

Bull recognizes it for what it is, too, and leans up, kneeling properly now, no longer pinning Dorian down. "Hands and knees." 

Dorian hastens to obey, naturally, spurred by the pleased sound Bull makes and the firm, quick slap of his hand against Dorian's arse. He's acutely aware, suddenly, of how hard and heavy his cock is when it hangs, of how much he wants this in a way that goes beyond his love for sexual experimentation. 

It's jarring, but Bull seems to realize it, and once Dorian has settled onto his elbows and knees he slaps Dorian's ass again, one cheek, then the other, and again, and again, until Dorian's moaning, shivering, his skin on fire in a completely different way and everything that isn't Bull or this moment gone from his mind entirely. 

"I want to hear you say it one more time," Bull says, his big hands resting on Dorian's arse, fingers spread, one side digging in, the other loose. 

"It," Dorian growls, frustrated, shoving back against Bull's hands. 

"What I heard just then was _I want you to leave and take your horn balm with you_ ," Bull says, his voice low.

The heat of his chest is evident as he leans over Dorian, and yes, that's his cock pressing against Dorian's back, perfect, Dorian thinks, arching up to touch his back to Bull's stomach, his shoulders to Bull's chest. "Please use the horn balm," he says, knowing he sounds breathy and not caring a whit. 

"You want to hurt," Bull says.

His words rumble through Dorian, shoulders down to his cock, which throbs, ignored. "Yes," Dorian growls, too frustrated to be politic. 

Bull's hand on Dorian's chest is welcome, makes Dorian feel--contained, safe. "Say it." 

"I want you to hurt me," Dorian says, spitting the words, giving in. "I want you to fuck me and hurt me and make me forget about the fact that there are six more wretched months of cold before the resumation of temperatures at which non-Ferelden people can reasonably function. _Please_." 

The pulse of Bull's cock is an obvious indicator of approval, and if that weren't enough, the way he moves immediately would work. He moves back and all at once Dorian's cold--the fire has burned itself down, a bit, and the sweat on Dorian's skin is drying--but only for as long as it takes for Bull to spread Dorian's cheeks and lean down and--Maker, there's really nothing like it. Bull's tongue in Dorian's hole, firm and decisive, the scrape of his teeth on Dorian's arse, the way Bull pants and moans because it's his favorite thing to do, because he loves it, because he loves--

Dorian's cock, and pulling it back between Dorian's legs by way of the piercing before closing his mouth around it, sucking. His eyes cross and he moans, shaky, letting himself back down on his elbows, not entirely to hide his face in the pillows but--partially. It's just that once he's done begging, Bull's a whirlwind, Bull will give him everything and more, and he doesn't ever want to get used to that. 

It's only when Bull pulls away that Dorian remembers the horn balm, and suddenly the scent of it is thick in the air, Bull's finger rubbing in a slow, if steady, circle around Dorian's hole. He bites his lip, expecting the burn to begin a few seconds later, but is disappointed, and lifts his head out of the pillows to say, "I don't feel anything yet." 

"Just wait," Bull says, patient. 

Dorian opens his mouth to say something else, but there it is--that same tingle-burn combination, only it feels different. The tingle is less, the burn is more intense. It feels like instead of lingering on the surface of Dorian's skin, the balm goes straight down, burning the entire way and making Dorian moan involuntarily, rocking back until he finds Bull, until Bull's pressed against him and holding him and it's. It's maddening, truly maddening but in the ways that sex with Bull can be and still be amazing. 

"Yes," Bull says, deep and pleased, and pulls away enough to slap Dorian's arse, which only makes Dorian clench, which--oh, that's a spike, pain and arousal and Dorian's moaning, shuddering, clawing at the pillows and burying his face and. 

He can't breathe. He lifts his head, turns it to the side, flops down, and Bull spanks Dorian again, Bull's thighs still against the back of Dorian's legs but otherwise--not in the way of his own purpose, not in the way of. Hurting Dorian in the most delicious of ways.

Exquisite, Bull said, and he was right. The pain is exquisite and impossible to ignore, impossible not to shift and spread his knees wider, lean forward when Bull's hand at the small of his back urges him to. 

Bull pulls Dorian's cock backward again, through his legs as before, only this time he does it by way of his fingers curling around Dorian's hip from the front, pushing it back, and he does something to the piercing through the head of Dorian's cock that makes him shout with pain, with pleasure, shuddering and holding tighter to the pillows. 

"Make that sound again," Bull says, simple and assured, and this time he slaps Dorian's cock with the back of his hand and Dorian does, he shouts, just like before, pleasure and pain coiling tight in his balls. 

Bull doesn't slap Dorian's cock anymore, instead wrapping a firm hand around it and jerking Dorian off in quick, merciless motions while he uses the other to slap Dorian's arse, one side, and the other, and the other, and the other. 

It's the most overload yet, enough that Dorian barely notices his orgasm, though he does notice the bare walls of his room echoing with the sound of his pleasure when the rushing dies down in his ears. Bull's pressed against him, thighs to shoulders, holding him while Dorian shivers in the aftermath. 

They end up tangled together, the blanket most of the way over Dorian before Dorian's anywhere near sensible again. Bull seems to realize the moment when Dorian's more coherent, and says, "And that is why all qunari children are taught as soon as their horns start coming in that horn balm goes on _horns_ , and nowhere near broken skin or sensitive areas."

In spite of himself, Dorian laughs and lets himself be pulled tight against Bull's chest.


End file.
